


we could be more (than just part-time lovers)

by booksnchocolate



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breaking Up & Making Up, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 23:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19451938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/booksnchocolate/pseuds/booksnchocolate
Summary: “It’s fine,” Newt said through numb lips. “I don’t miss him at all.”A story about endings. And, just maybe, beginnings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this and I hope reading it brings joy as well! Unbeta'd; concrit always appreciated.
> 
> Title from Avicii's "S.O.S."

Around him, the buzz of people grew louder. Chatter and the clink of glasses filled the air. Newt shifted in his seat and ran a hand self-consciously over his tie, the rich fabric foreign beneath his fingers. Great. The brother of the bride – one of the brides – drinking alone before the ceremony. Thoughts of finding Sonya dashed through his head but remembering the horde of other relatives who had vied for the honour of helping Sonya get ready – father, mother, aunts, uncles, even a few “cousins” he was sure he’d never seen before in his life – Newt decided staying put was the wiser option.

Another glance at his watch. The ceremony wouldn’t start for another fifteen minutes. What the hell, Newt thought. That was enough time. He signaled for another drink.

+++

“You smell like alcohol,” Sonya muttered as she hugged him, pitched just low enough for nosy relatives not to hear. “You better not pull anything at the ceremony.”

“It’s fine,” Newt assured her, because it was. It was more than fine. His sister was getting married. Looking at her, alight with happiness and stunning in a simple white dress, Newt thought his heart just might burst for it. “You look lovely.”

Sonya beamed and the sun shone brighter. “Thank you.” She squeezed his hand. “So do you. You should wear suits more often.”

Newt grimaced. “I feel like I’m shoving a stick up my own arse, wearing this.”

“Oh my God,” Sonya laughed at that, quieting just as quickly as several older relatives turned hawk-like gazes on them.

Newt rolled his eyes. “You can’t even have fun at your own wedding, I see.”

Sonya echoed his expression but shrugged helplessly. “They’re family. Let them have their fun. Besides, it’s not like anyone else is getting married anytime soon – oh, Newt.”

Newt felt his face crumple at her words and the dark void opened up in his chest again, threatening to swallow him. He dropped his gaze to the ground, blinking furiously against the burn behind his eyes.

“Newt, I’m so sorry,” Sonya was saying beside him. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

The desperation in her voice pulled at him and he forced himself to look at her. “I know,” he said, voice thick. “It’s okay.”

The sad, lost look Sonya was giving him said it clearly wasn’t but something must have shown in his eyes because she nodded and squeezed his hand again. “It’ll be okay,” she murmured.

_Will it?_ He wanted to ask, but swallowed down the words past the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he said thickly. And then, before she could call him out on his tone, “Come on, then. Let’s go get you married.”

The ceremony was nothing short of spectacular. Newt’s heart swelled with pride as he walked down the aisle, Sonya’s arm linked in his. He could practically feel her vibrating beside him, radiating happiness – and nervousness, if the way her fingers were digging into his arm were any indication.

Newt hugged her tightly when they reached the altar, hair and makeup be damned. This was his little sister. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered into her hair, and this time the lump in his throat was from happiness. When he pulled back, Sonya’s eyes were shining but she gave him a shaky smile.

Newt returned it and in that moment the ache in his chest receded, happiness flooding its place.

No sooner had he taken his seat than the doors at the back of the hall opened a second time and Harriet walked down the aisle arm-in-arm with her father. The whole room turned to look at her but Newt’s gaze was fixed on Sonya and the joyous expression he saw on her face brought tears to his eyes.

“I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The officiant’s voice rang out as Sonya swept Harriet into a deep kiss. Thunderous applause shook the hall and the crowd rose as one.

Good things could never last, Newt mused as he nursed his – fourth? Seventh? He’d lost count after three – whiskey. It didn’t matter. However many he’d had still wasn’t enough to dull the pain in his chest, the way his very skin ached with the certainty of loss.

The dancing was well underway and the hall was filled with people laughing and talking but Newt wanted none of it. Sonya and Harriet’s first dance had been beautiful but now his ire was only increasing in proportion to the celebration, and fuck, _fuck_ but he hated this, a drunk sorry mess at his own sister’s wedding, the starched fabric of his shirt collar making his skin crawl and the merciless press of people so _loud_ -

“Newton!” Great. Just when he’d thought things couldn’t get any worse.

“Aunt Ava,” he said, straightening in his seat and doing his best not to slur. “It’s been so long.”

He was fairly certain his tone couldn’t pass for joy even if he were sober, but his aunt doesn’t seem to notice. She hugged him and Newt was enveloped in a cloud of perfume, the scent of synthetic lavender filling the air and lingering even after she released him.

“How _are_ you, dear?” The over-enunciation set Newt’s teeth on edge but he gripped his whiskey tighter and forced what he hoped was a smile. He could do this; he could get through this conversation without making a scene. _For Sonya_.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he said, and then, in an effort to steer the conversation away from what he already knew was coming: “Wasn’t the ceremony lovely?”

Ava waved her hand, rings glinting in the warm overhead lights. “Yes, yes, but that’s all people will talk about for the next week. What about you, Newton? I don’t see your beau here.”

Newt choked. “I-”

“Between you and me,” Ava lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I always thought you and Tom would be the first ones to the altar.”

A thousand responses flooded Newt’s mind. _We split up;_ and _don’t call him Tom;_ and _so did I._

“Well,” he managed, staring intently at his whiskey, “we’re not, uh, together, actually. Anymore.”

He didn’t look up but he heard Ava’s gasp, a shuttered intake of breath. “Such a shame!” she said and Newt wanted to throw up. “You poor thing.”

“It’s fine,” Newt said through numb lips. “I don’t miss him at all.”

The void in his chest opened again and the rush of blood filled his ears. Suddenly, the room felt so cold.

A hand on his arm made Newt look up. “You two were always so wonderful together,” Ava was saying and her voice was low and sincere this time. He couldn’t tell if that made the pain better or worse. “I hope you’re still friends.”

It was the last straw. Because of course they weren’t friends, hadn’t even been in contact since that fateful night eight months ago. Newt shook his head against the memory of angry words and slammed doors and a key left on the kitchen counter the next morning with no note. He downed the rest of his whiskey in one swallow but even the burn in his chest couldn’t chase away how he’d felt when he’d seen the hall closet, half-empty for the first time. A shuddering breath. Ava was saying something but Newt couldn’t hear her, too busy drowning in the memories **.**

It had started small, because of course it had, hadn’t it? They were both busy with work; dinners together turned into microwaved meals eaten alone over the kitchen sink. Sleepy morning kisses turned into _see you laters_ and _I’m not home tonight_ s. Teresa came back into town and Newt’s promotion came with an increased workload, and he and Thomas saw less and less of each other. Texts went unanswered, plans together got pushed to the next weekend, and the next until they had become like planets orbiting each other, never touching; two strangers sharing an apartment instead of a home. It had been obvious that something was wrong; the way Thomas looked at him when he shrugged away from morning kisses couldn’t have been a bigger clue, but Newt had been so focused on work, and Alby was sending him to another conference on the weekend and he just had to meet this deadline – and – and –

And now he was left with this, a too-big apartment and only the memory of their last fight to hold onto. The slam of the door on Thomas’s last words had hung in Newt’s head long after his scent had left the pillows and the bedsheets.

_I don’t have time! Newt burst out, because if Tommy would just understand-_

_No, Thomas had said, you don’t make time._

And then he’d walked out and suddenly Newt had all the time in the world to contemplate everything that had gone wrong. That was the worst part, Newt thought bitterly. He hadn’t just lost a lover. Tommy had been his best mate. It had been like losing a part of himself.

Dimly, he was aware of Ava talking. “Breakups are hard,” she was saying. Her voice was funneled through a haze of liquor and noise. “Especially if you don’t have closure. But you know, Newton, there’s this lovely girl I know-”

“Excuse me,” Newt shoved himself back from the table abruptly, chair nearly toppling over behind him. “I have to go.”

Gathering up the precious few shreds of dignity he had left, Newt staggered off to the men’s room.

Hair disheveled, shirtsleeves rolled up, tie undone – he looked a right mess. But what the hell, he thought, swaying slightly. It wasn’t fair. He had to be here, drowning his sorrows at his own sister’s wedding and Tommy was out there having a fucking _time_ , probably hanging out with someone who’d fucking make time for him. Ava’s words pulled at him like a fishhook tugging at his stomach. _Especially if you don’t have closure._ Well, Newt thought, fuck that. If he had to be miserable, he ought to give Tommy a piece of his mind, tell him what this hole in his chest felt like and make him understand this – this awfulness that had been his life for nearly a year. Newt fumbled with his phone, something like a plan swimming through his inebriated mind. He’d go and say his piece and get his goddamn closure. And then Tommy could just – Tommy could –

“Get fucked,” Newt cursed as he tripped over the curb. Behind him the taxi peeled away in a screech of tires.

Getting up the steps to Thomas’s front door was more of a challenge than Newt wanted to admit but at least struggling to stay balanced kept him from thinking about what he was about to do. At last, he stood on the top step, staring at the doorbell. The doorbell stared back. Before he could think twice, Newt pushed the button.

And waited.

“Fuck,” he said when there was no answer. The ground was starting to tilt beneath his feet. Maybe he’d just sit – yeah, sit down and. Wait til Tommy answered. Or something. Newt slid to sit on the top step with his back to the door – which turned out to be a mistake when the door was pulled open and he all but fell inside, flailing unceremoniously upright.

“What the – _Newt_?” And. That voice. Newt would know that voice anywhere.

“Hiya, Tommy.” Despite all the alcohol, Newt suddenly felt strangely sober. The night air was sharp against his skin. He stared out at the empty street, unable to turn around.

“What the fuck are you doing here? No – fucking look at me. What are you doing here?”

So Newt did, half-turning where he sat on the step to bring Thomas into view. The pebbled concrete dug into his trousers but he didn’t care because it had been _eight months_ and even now Thomas took his breath away. “I-” he started then cut off, shaking his head in one last attempt at self-preservation. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t give me that.” Thomas always could see right through his bullshit.

“I came for closure.” The words bubbled out and Newt couldn’t stop them. “I was – ‘s my sister’s wedding, y’know, Sonya and – it was really beautiful, y’should’ve been there. Aunt Ava was asking about you. Had to tell her we weren’t together anymore and she said I needed closure so - fuck it, right? I’m here.”

“Newt, you – seriously? Seriously, you thought this was a good idea? How much have you had to drink?” Tommy’s voice was pitched low and his face looked strange in the half-light, ragged and worn.

“Fuck off,” said Newt from the vicinity of Thomas’ knees. “I’m fine.”

“I can see that,” Thomas said dryly. “You’re drunk on my doorstep at 4am to show me just how fine you are.”

Something like rage bubbled under Newt’s skin and even with his senses made sluggish by whiskey he felt the prickling shame taking root in his gut. “Sorry,” he managed, tongue clumsy around the word. “I’ll go.”

He made to push himself off the step but a hand on his arm stopped him. Newt looked up to see Thomas crouching, one hand on his bicep, face unreadable. “You’re drunk,” Thomas said softly. “Come on.”

He led Newt inside.

“You can have the couch,” he said, pointing to what Newt assumed was the living room. Newt’s heart squeezed painfully as he stumbled around the unfamiliar layout. A sound behind him made him turn to see Thomas coming back with a blanket. “Here.”

Newt took it and made sure their hands didn’t brush. “Thanks.”

Thomas was silent for a moment, expression unreadable in the dark. “It’s... okay,” he said eventually, quietly. “Get some sleep, Newt.”

He left before Newt had a chance to respond, and then Newt was alone in the darkness.

Newt woke up to something dying in his mouth. “Eurgh,” he croaked but only silence answered him, which was just as well because his head was pounding in time to his pulse. God, how much had he had to drink? He swung his legs over the side of – something that was definitely not his bed. A couch. Tommy’s couch.

The events of the night crashed back into Newt’s memory and his world slipped sideways on its axis. Fuck, what had he _done_?

The sound of footsteps rescued him from the impending panic. Newt turned to find Thomas paused at the doorway, holding a glass of water. The look on his face was uncharacteristically blank but for the suspicious shine to his dark eyes, as if he were holding back a deluge by will alone.

“I brought you aspirin.” Thomas’ voice was rough and clipped in the predawn light. “And water.” He shifted on his feet, as if reluctant to take a step into the room, before edging around the couch to hand them over.

Newt took the proffered drink, pretending he didn’t notice every bit of space between their fingers on the glass. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Thomas said, perching on the arm of the couch, one leg still on the ground, foot tapping restlessly as if he might need to bolt at any time.

He looked away as Newt swallowed the aspirin and drained the water, setting the empty glass down on the low coffee table with a soft clink.

A charged silence hung in the air between them. Tension crawled over Newt’s skin like electricity, making his hair stand on end. At last, he made himself speak. “Sorry for – this.” The words stuck like tar in his throat. “I can – I’ll go.”

Thomas didn’t say anything to that for a long time. Just as Newt braced a hand on his knee and made to lever himself off the couch, Thomas spoke. “You don’t wanna tell me what you were doing here at 4am.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question but Newt paused. “It was closure,” he said slowly, echoing his words from last night. “I was drunk. I’m sorry for disturbing you. I’m… sorry.”

There was more he could have said, more lurking beneath his words, but Newt was tired. Thomas wasn’t looking at him and it made something in his chest ache with shame. He should never have come.

“You know why it happened, right?” The words came out of left field, slamming the breath from Newt’s body. “You know why we broke up?”

Newt opened his mouth. Closed it. Emotion rose in his chest like a thunderstorm but Thomas was still talking.

“There was never enough time,” he was saying softly. Newt looked at him then, the tense lines of his body framed in the grey morning light. “Something always came up, you were always at work or I was out and – it was lonely. Waking up in bed, alone; sleeping alone when you were at work or at a conference. I never saw you. I thought it would get better, you know, we’d try to make time, but,” he shrugged, an aborted movement of his shoulders, “I guess it never happened.”

“I know,” Newt replied, the words pulled from him before he could think. “I know, and I thought you understood. I’d just gotten a promotion, I needed to prove myself-”

“To whom?” Thomas demanded and this time he did look at Newt and Newt’s heart stuttered under the force of his gaze. “I asked, you know. When you first got the promotion, I understood, thought you just needed to work for a couple weekends. But then you stopped coming home at night and you were always at work functions and it just felt like you were – not that you were cutting me out of your life, but that you didn’t particularly care if I was in it.”

Newt could feel himself gaping, jaw hanging open as Thomas’s words sank into him. “Tommy…” he tried but trailed off. There was nothing he could say.

“I know,” Thomas said softly, picking at a thread in his jeans. “I know you were doing it for us, putting the hours in so we could have a good life. It just felt like our definitions of that got split up. You wanted a steady income and to afford a nice place to live, and I just wanted you.”

“I wanted you too.” The words tore themselves from Newt’s throat, leaving him hollow and raw. “I thought you’d understand that I was doing it for us, that it wouldn’t be like this forever.”

“How long was it gonna be, then?” Thomas asked and Newt shrank back. “Cause last I checked it was three months and counting.”

Newt frowned at his hands, as if his ragged nails held an answer. _It’s not like that anymore_ , he wanted to say; but just last weekend he’d flown to Atlanta for a conference and he had another one coming up at the end of May, and –

“I guess that answers my question.”

Suddenly, Newt wanted to cry. A torrent of emotions swirled in his chest, climbing up his throat, looking for release. “Of course it does,” he said bitterly. “I have all the time in the world now, Tommy, since you fucking left.” He scrubbed his hands down his cheeks. _Nothing replaces you_ went unsaid.

Thomas blew out an angry breath. “Newt-”

“What did you want me to do?” Newt burst out, unable to stop himself. He jerked up from the couch. “Put you first all the time, blow off everything I’ve worked for, for this? I’m sorry, but life doesn’t stop for lie-ins.”

“I’m not saying that!” Thomas was fully glaring at him now. “I don’t need to be first, always, above everything, cause I know you can’t promise that and I wouldn’t want you to. But I need to know you’re gonna think about me. I need to know you’re gonna take me into consideration.”

Newt couldn’t look at him. His gaze caught on the floor; the words were lodged in his throat like broken glass. How could he come back from this? Senseless desperation flooded his veins until he felt nearly mad with it. “I felt –” he managed before he broke off, biting his lip. The tang of copper edged between his teeth. “I felt trapped.”

That word broke a dam inside of him.

“It felt like… like I owed you every minute of my time.” He stared resolutely at the carpet as his words picked up speed. “Like I kept draining yours. It felt like you were asking for something I just couldn’t give you.”

Newt blew out a harsh breath. “After a while, it became – it became easier to just be at work. I knew what my job was and how to do it. Sometimes it felt like the only time I could breathe.” He paused. “And it stopped me from thinking. About you, about us, about everything.”

He shook his head at the memories. “Those back-to-back deadlines were hell but it’s so much easier to tackle a problem on a piece of paper than it is to come home to the feeling that you’re not enough for the living, breathing person next to you.” Newt cut off, heartbeat hammering in his ears. His breath came shaky and erratic.

Across from him, Thomas was silent a long moment, staring at Newt. Newt forced himself to hold his gaze, watching as an unreadable emotion sparked and flared in his dark eyes like wildfire.

“You pushed me out.” Thomas’ voice was raw, a soft underbelly scraped over gravel. Then, louder, so the whole room echoed with it: “You pushed me out!”

Newt couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe past the painful tightness in his chest.

“You thought,” and now Thomas was looking at him with something akin to wonder, as if seeing him for the first time, “you thought there was no saving this - us. So you didn’t even try.”

Newt felt the words like a physical blow, their weight searing his skin like a brand. He took an inadvertent step back, fumbling for balance against the couch as the world narrowed to a pinpoint of purpose. This was it. Heart thudding in his ears, limbs shuddering with adrenaline, he took his chance.

“I’m trying now.”

The words rang true as he said them; Newt lifted his chin in a moment of clarity and spoke in a voice braver than he felt. “I’m here. This is me. I’m trying.” He offered the words. An admission. A truce.

Silence. Deafening silence, in which Newt could map all of the emotions that cycled across Thomas’ face. The creasing brow as Newt spoke, the widening of the eyes and slackening of the jaw as his words sank in. Thomas looked younger then, artless and pained and hopeful all at once. His jaw worked soundlessly.

“Newt, are you –” he broke off, licked his lips, tried again. “If you’re. Okay. If this is really – I’ve wanted this for so long.” The words tumbled over each other. “I thought it was over between us and I made my peace with that.” The way he stuttered out the word _peace_ nearly caught Thomas on a lie but he kept going. “I really want to make this work. I want us to make this work. But I can’t stay around waiting to see if this night you’ll be home for dinner or this weekend maybe we’ll spend more than two hours together. I can’t put my life on hold for yours, and I won’t.”

He paused, took a deep breath and looked Newt in the eye. “So if we’re gonna do this, I need to know this is something we do together.”

Newt swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I’ve wanted this too. I never stopped wanting us.” He sucked in a shallow breath and tried to ignore the prickling behind his eyes. “I missed you every day since you left.”

Something softened in Thomas’ gaze then, his brown eyes filling with something like warmth. “Me too.”

The words were there but neither of them had moved from their stalemate at opposite sides of the coffee table. Newt exhaled once through his nose and summoned every ounce of courage he possessed. Not yet daring to hope, he stepped forward. “If we try again, we – we can do this together.”

He had barely finished the words before Thomas was crashing towards him, reaching across the void between them to take Newt’s hand. The touch of his callused fingers thrilled through Newt’s body and he couldn’t repress a soft shudder. This was the most contact they’d had in months. Warmth bubbled up within him and Newt felt the tension leave his chest; as if something inside him that had been restless all these months had finally stilled. “Tommy,” Newt said, “come home.”

Thomas paused, looked down at their joined hands, and smiled. It was the sweet, crooked smile Newt had thought he’d never see again, and he felt an answering grin breaking over his own face. “I already am. I’m home whenever I’m with you.”


	2. Epilogue

The sun streamed in through the open curtains, bathing the room in a golden glow. Outside, birds were chirping in the branches of a nearby tree.

“’M gonna fucking murder those birds,” Thomas growled, head buried under a pillow.

Newt laughed and nudged his naked thigh with one foot. “It’s half eleven, you know,” he said, tone teasing.

“Mmf,” was the disgruntled reply before Thomas emerged from the pillow. His dark hair was stuck up at every angle and there was a pillow crease indented along his cheek.

Newt had never seen anything so beautiful.

“Oh, fuck off,” Thomas laughed when Newt told him so. But he crawled over the bedsheets to drape himself over Newt and kiss him deeply, so Newt counted that as a win.

Just as he was getting lost in the kiss, the taste of Thomas slowly becoming familiar again, Newt’s phone rang.

Thomas pulled gently away from the kiss, nipping at Newt’s lips as he did so. “You gonna get that?”

Newt frowned, reaching for his phone. “It’s Alby.” He turned it off and placed it facedown on the bedside table. “What?”

Thomas was staring at him, mouth slightly open. “You just turned down a phone call from your boss.”

Newt tried to shrug it off but he knew the heat colouring his cheeks gave him away. “I told him my weekends are off-limits.”

Thomas swallowed audibly. “Did you?”

Heart in his throat, he reached for Thomas’ hand, interlacing their fingers. “Yeah.”

A slow smile dawned over Thomas’s face then, spreading like the sunrise. “We’ve got time then.” He brought their intertwined hands up to brush his lips over Newt’s knuckles. A sharp joy thrilled up Newt’s spine and when Thomas leaned forward and captured Newt’s mouth in a kiss, Newt was still smiling.


End file.
